Day 111: Bug Bite

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Several days ago I thought I’d managed to get a very fine cut on the base of my thumb. Then I thought I had a bit of dead skin hanging from it and went to snip it free so the cut wouldn’t widen. It wasn’t a piece of dead skin. It was a swelling. It stung to the touch and I thought it must be an ingrown hair, or very odd, some kind of zit (I’ve never had either on my hand).

A day later it had doubled in size and a poke accidentally burst it. Along with all the nasty that came out was a small brown needle-like thing that might have been a hair, a stinger, or part of a proboscis broken off when some bug took a nibble out of me. The base of my thumb swelled up red, and over the course of the day a vein of redness spread up the length of my arm.

I’ve seen it all taken care of and all that’s left now is a red, waxy pucker at the original bite-site. As gross as this whole process has been it’s also been somewhat fascinating. What exactly was going on inside my body? What bit me? What was left behind? How did my immune system respond?

Whatever the case, I’m pretty sure whatever but me is dead now. Hope I tasted good, you creepy little jerk.

Bug Bite

Day 110: Present

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Thinking about time and space again this morning, as well as personal goals, both for this year and for life in general. I’m passing several major milestones and it has me thinking about where I am right now, where I wanted to be, and where I want to be in the future knowing and experiencing what I have. It’s given me a particular appreciation for my current positioning in space-time. More than appreciation, I feel as if I am, perhaps somewhat belatedly, learning to use my present for more.

Present

Day 188: A Quiet Moment

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Sometimes they are difficult to find. This is, I think, because quiet moments aren’t ever truly found: quiet moments are made.

A Quiet Moment

Day 187: My Bride Paints Octopuses

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Fun fact, in English the plural form of octopus is octopuses, octopodes is the old Greek plural, and octopi is simply incorrect all around unless you yourself are an octopus because it’s inclusive. There’s your random bit of trivia for the day!

My bride is an artist. A pretty darn good one in my opinion. We’re both animal lovers but I’ve got a passion for weird and wonderful creatures. Octopuses have been something of a running joke with us that’s now transcended humor to become a symbol of happiness for us. Once we decided to move to an island my bride painted an octopus. It hangs on the wall of our living room. Our conversation this morning over breakfast and coffee turned to the painting and the others around it. She thinks of octopuses when she thinks of me and is painting. I’m flattered.

Her painting is the header image for this post.

My Bride Paints Octopuses

Day 186: Mountain Rising

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Some days you have to climb a mountain. Sometimes the mountain is bigger than expected. Sometimes the mountain gets bigger even while you’re climbing it. It still needs to be climbed, so the best thing to do is grin and find the joy. We’re mountain climbers, after all.

Mountain Rising

Day 185: Sofa

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A sofa might seem an odd thing to write a poem about, especially on July 4th but hear me out. Today’s poem is dedicated to a very dear friend of mine. He came to the United States on a student visa and has worked his tail off as a student and as a professional. He’s always kept his living light, just in case he had to leave.

He once confided in me that he had a dream of owning a sofa, because to him, a sofa is a symbol of permanence. You don’t buy a sofa for a place if you’re not sure you’re staying. Yesterday he got the great news. He’s staying and it’s time to shop for a sofa.

I say all of this today because I think it’s important to remember that we are a nation founded on immigration. The vast majority of United States’ citizens are the descendants of immigrants. Just check back a few generations.

Congratulations, my friend, and happy Independence Day, America.

Sofa

Day 182 & 184: Zenith; (Not) Working

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Didn’t upload on Day 182 because I got caught up with my writing, ran out of time, and by the time I remembered I was supposed to actually share my poetry it was too late.

Day 183 happened to be my birthday and I don’t feel too badly admitting I was too caught up in the good things going on to write a poem.

Day 184, we’re all caught up.

I couldn’t help noticing some carryover from the themes of Monday’s poem to this morning’s entry. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to broken things and things that aren’t broken and when we give them our attention, when do we celebrate them. We have a very odd relationship with things that work and things that don’t. People too for that matter. It is absurdly complicated and doesn’t really make sense.

And I say all of this as one of the biggest offenders. When something works, when it does good, when it is steady and consistent and amazing, we ignore it until it isn’t. Instead we focus on repairing the broken. Is either right? Is either healthy? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Zenith

(Not) Working

Day 180 & 181: Information.Energy, The Wealth If a Journey

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Yesterday’s poem delayed courtesy of computer issues that brought about a more than mild panic. Fortunately things appear to be in working order now. Yesterday’s poem was inspired by a conversation with a new friend and coworker about the imperfection of communication and how no matter how hard we try, information is always lost in the transference. Just like energy.

Information.Energy

Today’s poem was inspired by the realization that tomorrow marks day 182, which is more or less the halfway point (365/2=182.5~180). How awesome is that to consider! I’ve been at this for almost half a year!

The Wealth of a Journey